The Best of Us (Sullivan's Crossing #4)(24)

“I caught her,” he said. “She’s on the floor. I put a pillow under her head. What’s the matter with her? Is she going to die?”

“Let’s just keep her safe until Medical gets there. Is she breathing?”

“She’s making noises so she must be. I can feel a pulse. Maia?” he called gently. “Maia? Can you hear me? Maia?”

“Sir?” the dispatcher beckoned. “Can you smell her breath? Tell me if she has fruity smelling breath?”

He’d been kissing her. Her breath smelled like a recent Tic Tac. “No,” he said. “She had a breath mint.”

“How old is she?”

“Seventeen. Almost eighteen. We both are. We were watching a movie.”

“Is she diabetic?”

“She didn’t say she was. She’d tell me, wouldn’t she?”

“Did she take anything? Any drugs?”

“She was going to get some Advil for a headache and she passed out.”

“Is she suffering from a head injury? Concussion? Anything?”

“She’s been having some headaches,” he said, a catch in his voice. “She said she was going to get her eyes checked...”

“Do you know if she could have accidentally ingested anything? Could you have given her anything? Anything at all?”

“I’d never do that,” he said. “I don’t know if she took anything. Oh, she takes birth control pills. She told me.”

“Any other drugs? Maybe diet pills?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t do drugs. I don’t do drugs.”

“Marijuana? Sleeping pills? Prescription medication? Pain pills?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Alcohol? Maybe some drinks?” she asked.

“We weren’t drinking. We were just watching a movie! Jesus, where are they?”

“They’re en route,” she said. “Anything unusual about her behavior? Slurring? Stumbling? Off balance?”

“She had a headache!” he yelled.

“Stay on the line, sir. Stay with me until Medical arrives. How about food allergies?”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

He heard the sirens, and if he could hear them they would be almost there. The fire department was just a few blocks away—he heard the sirens every time they left the firehouse. In two minutes the door opened and Connie Boyle and another firefighter came in carrying a stretcher and a couple of big duffels of medical supplies and equipment. His dad had been feeding and watering all firefighters, rescue personnel and cops for years at the pub—he knew almost all of them by name.

“Connie! Oh Jesus,” Finn said. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I got it, Finn,” Connie said, starting by listening to her heart. Then he took her blood pressure and recited some numbers that meant nothing to Finn.

“Don’t ask me all those questions, like is she taking drugs,” Finn said. “I’m sure she’s not taking drugs. We can call her parents and ask if she’s diabetic but I don’t think so.”

“Don’t worry, Finn. We got all your answers. Look, she’s coming around,” Connie said.

Maia was rolling her head back and forth, moaning. “Maia!” he said, leaning down to put his lips on her forehead. But Connie pushed him back.

“Give her some space, she’s not quite conscious. She won’t be for a while. We’re going to call her parents, take her to the nearest emergency facility, get her evaluated and, if necessary, admitted. She’s postictal and semiconscious because she had a seizure. We’re going to start an IV so we can administer drugs if necessary. Can you give me her parents’ number so I can call them?”

“I don’t have a number,” Finn said. “I just have her cell number.”

“We’ll get it.” Then he asked Finn some questions—her parents’ names, where they lived, asked him to describe the incident, asked if she had a condition that caused seizures, like epilepsy.

Connie’s radio was talking to him. He completed his transmission and looked at Finn. “We’re taking her to the hospital in Breckenridge. Her parents will meet us there.”

“I’m going with you,” Finn said.

“You’ll be stuck without a car. But you can follow—we’re not running code. She’s stable.”

“Finn?” a small voice said. “Finn?”

“I’m here,” he said, leaning closer.

Maia clutched his hand. “Did I faint? What happened?”

Finn looked at Connie, worry and indecision creasing his brow. Connie just nodded. “It seemed like you had a seizure or something, Maia. I called the paramedics. They’re going to take you to the hospital and your parents will come. I’ll follow the ambulance. You’re going to be all right.”

“How’s your head?” Connie asked her.

She closed her eyes. “It feels big. And fuzzy.”

“You’ll get some help with that in the emergency room,” Connie said. “Try to relax. Tell me what day it is?” He asked her a few silly questions—who’s the president, what month is it, when do you graduate? She answered them all accurately and he stopped.